


Getting Rid of Meat Dagger

by Condiemint



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Autopsies, Break Up, Drunk Dialing, F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Condiemint/pseuds/Condiemint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changed the title. Because, reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Rid of Meat Dagger

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Dance in the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332001) by [Condiemint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Condiemint/pseuds/Condiemint). 



 

                1

 

“Tom!” Molly said, bursting through the front door. “Sherlock’s back! I mean, he’s not dead. He came to see me at Bart’s today,” she said her eyes sparkling delightedly.

Tom’s brow furrowed as he tried to place the name. “Oh, you mean that bloke who flung himself of the roof? So he didn’t top himself after all, huh?” He looked back down at his magazine, uninterested. “Why’d he come see you?”

“I told you Tom,” she said happily bustling through the kitchen cupboards to get tea started, “I used to help him on some cases. We were sort of friends.”

 

 

 

                2

 

“So how was your day with Sherlock?” Tom asked over the noise in the pub, before wiping his mouth after finishing his usual Sunday roast dinner.

“It was nice. He had some clients come to the flat and then we went out to a crime scene. We examined the body, but Sherlock deduced from the smell and fading on the clothes that the whole thing had been staged.”

“Strange guy,” Tom said. When he saw Molly look slightly affronted, he reached out and squeezed her hand. “Sorry love, I know he’s your friend, but you have to admit, he is a bit odd.”

When she smiled at him, he relaxed and turned away to watch the match on the telly.

Sherlock had been strange today, Molly thought, but not the way Tom meant. He had been kind, funny, even sweet. She’d had a nice day with Sherlock Holmes. Time with Sherlock used to be stimulating and exhilarating; often exasperating and sometimes humiliating. But nice?

She wondered how long it would take to wear off so things would get back to normal.

 

 

 

                3

 

Molly ran her fingers through Tom’s hair as he settled his face between her thighs, slowly licking warmth into her. She hummed her pleasure through smiling lips and began to move steadily against his tongue.

A violin began to play in the background and Tom groaned. “Just leave it, Molls,” he said as she leaned over to her bedside table to grab her phone. But she couldn’t. It was Sherlock. It might be important.

It wasn’t until Molly was in the cab on the way to Bart’s that she realised she hadn’t even asked what Sherlock needed her for.

 

 

 

                4

 

Molly couldn’t sleep. She felt guilty about dancing with Sherlock outside during the reception. Well, she felt guilty that she hadn’t told Tom about it.

“Tom,” she said.

“Mmm?” he replied, on the verge of sleep.

“At the wedding reception, I told you I had to use the loo, but I actually went outside to see Sherlock. Because he was leaving early and it just seemed sad. So I went after him and we had a dance before I came back in.”

“That was nice of you, Molls.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nah. Why would I be? He’s a bit sad that bloke; no mates except John. It’s nice how you look out for him.”

Molly pondered this. Why didn’t she feel better? Now she just felt mad that Tom wasn’t jealous. But that was silly. Tom was right: there was no need for him to be jealous.

Was there?

 

 

 

                5

 

Sherlock had his arms wrapped around her. Molly snuggled in closer to his chest where she could hear his heart beating steadily under her. He ran his long fingers along her jawline and tilted her head up towards his. His usually grey eyes were black as they locked onto hers. Her breath caught as he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips met softly and then he ran his tongue lightly across her lips and she opened to him and he took her mouth passionately with his own. She ran her hands up his arms, caressing the back of his neck and tangling her fingers in his curls.

“Oh God, Sherlock,” she moaned into his open mouth.

“Whadj’ say, Molls?”

Molly’s eyes fluttered open. “Nothing, Tom,” she mumbled. “Go back to sleep.”

 

 

 

                6

 

Molly was cracking open Mr. Tybald’s chest when the door to the morgue opened and she looked up hoping to see Sherlock. But it was just one of the assistants. She sighed and went back to Mr. Tybald’s rib cage.

Sherlock hadn’t been to see her since the wedding. Almost five weeks. Well, she had wanted things to go back to normal and here they were. He was ignoring her and she was pining over him. Foolishness, she thought, as she removed Mr. Tybald’s heart and weighed it.

She knew her infatuation with Sherlock was pointless. He was never going to love her back and she had made her peace with that. She honestly had. But she couldn’t give him up. She needed him in her life. But it was enough, that they were friends and colleagues, to have that part of him he shared with so few.

And Tom was fine with it; incredible about it really, when it would be easy for him to complain. She was lucky. She could be loved, get married, have kids, be happy, and still have Sherlock.

She continued her autopsy, following muscle memory as she removed the lungs, allowing her mind to wander.

But things with Tom had been off. Nothing she could put her finger on, but she just had an uncomfortable feeling of wrongness when they were together. She had tried to think of someway he had changed, but couldn’t. He was still the same kind, dependable, goofy Tom she had fallen in love with.

But now his kindness often struck Molly as naivete; his dependability felt suffocating; his goofiness was grating. She got out her bone saw, giving her frustration with Tom a satisfying outlet in cracking open Mr. Tybald’s skull.

 

 

 

                7

 

Tom walked into Molly’s flat to find her sitting at her kitchen table looking grim.

“Tom, we need to talk.”

 

 

 

                8

 

Molly rummaged through her flat looking for anything of Tom’s to return to him. She was surprised how little there was, actually. They had been together over a year, had been engaged, but there was hardly any evidence of him in her flat. Some clothes in a drawer in her bedroom; toothbrush and shaving kit in the bathroom; his preferred brand of beer, instant coffee, instant noodles, and baked beans in the kitchen; a few car magazines in the lounge. He had taken his Playstation with him that first night. Once she had gathered everything into a box she texted Tom to ask when would be a good time to drop it off.

 

 

 

                9

 

Molly’s stomach felt like a bag of cats and her hands were shaking slightly as she knocked on Tom’s door. He opened the door and turned away without speaking to her. Max jumped up to greet her, his paws scrabbling against her thighs. She set the box down just inside the door and gave Max a scratch, getting her hands licked in appreciation. Tom was sitting on the sofa facing away from her.

“I really am so sorry, Tom,” she said again. She had said that many times in the past week.

“Yeah,” Tom answered apathetically.

Molly looked down at her hands as she wondered whether to just leave and then saw the engagement ring. She had actually forgotten about it. She wriggled it off her finger and walked around the sofa to hand it to Tom.

He looked as if she were trying to hand him a rotting rodent.

“Keep it.”

“I can’t, Tom,” she said, putting it down on a side table. When he didn’t say anything else she turned to leave.

“Why, Molly?” he asked suddenly.

She sighed. She had tried to explain it so many different ways already.

“Because,” Molly started, then paused, thinking. “Because you should marry someone you would do anything for, someone you would drop everything for, someone who is more important to you than anything else. And I care about you, but not enough, not like that. We’re good together, and we probably would have been perfectly content. And for a long time I thought that would be enough. But I was wrong. I don’t want ordinary. I want more.”

“You’re just going to end up alone,” he taunted her as she turned once more to leave.

“Then I will be alone,” she said stoically. “There are worse things.”

 

 

 

                10

 

Molly’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and sighed before answering.

“Molls?” a voice slurred.

“Tom, you have to stop doing this,” she said gently but firmly. “We are over. I’m going to turn off my phone now, so don’t call back.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a flash fiction challenge at terribleminds.com to write 10 chapters in only 1000 words. I ended up with 1427 words because I couldn't bring myself to get rid of anymore! This wasn't beta'd, so sorry if there are typos or bits that don't work.  
> When Molly refers to dancing with Sherlock outside the wedding that is reference to one of my other fics that I linked.  
> Thanks for reading!


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